Harbor
by soul vacation
Summary: Jack has married Celia, and unluckily for Gustafa, Nami just so happened to be in love with Jack. She leaves the village, leaving him behind, little knowing that Gustafa was in love with her. (GustafaMuffy, multi-part)
1. Part One

_Harbor_   
Part One 

It was funny how one person could come to matter so much in another's life that it felt stark and empty when they were away. For his part, Gustafa very much preferred composing songs and poems centered around love and heartsickness than experiencing it himself. He found that it was rather disagreeable, and left him with little desire to do much but wander listlessly and think about what he was lacking. Which, really, wasn't like him at all. He enjoyed life to its fullest whenever he could, or at least he tried to. Lately, though... 

Well, lately he hadn't had much desire to enjoy anything. Not even music. That had hit him rather harshly, too; music was his one true passion in life. Without it, he felt like an empty vessel, drifting aimlessly without a captain or a crew. It was a most dissatisfying feeling, one that he could certainly do without. The only problem was, he couldn't seem to vanquish it. 

Long walks on the beach only made him think of her, because of course his poetic heart would link the color of the waves gently lapping onto the shore to her eyes. Tree-gazing, too, had betrayed him; with the crispness of autumn came the warm, vibrant colors of the leaves, which his foolish heart naturally resolved to compare to her hair. The shifting weather only succeeded in likening itself to her moods, varied and unpredictable as they were. 

Yes, it appeared that he was very far gone indeed, with no hope of ever having her. She had run out of money and left Forget Valley... or at least that was what she had told everyone. For his part, Gustafa was inclined to believe that Jack and Celia's marriage had, had something to do with her abrupt departure as well. It was no small secret that the guileless farmer had captured the fancy of many a woman around their village. Gustafa didn't resent this, however, and he wasn't jealous; Jack was a good, honest man, and wouldn't intentionally play with anyone's feelings. He was also a good friend of Gustafa's. It wouldn't be right for him to envy the other man. 

Unsettled by the route his thoughts were taking, Gustafa shifted in his seat and mentally admonished himself. So the person that he cared for didn't give a whit about him aside from friendship. He should be happy to have that much from her. He was, in fact. It was a pleasure just to talk to her, just to discuss whatever random thing captured her fancy for that day. They had always had very interesting conversations under the tree by his house. She would cross her arms and lean against his wall, and he would settle comfortably against the bark, guitar over his lap, and then they would talk. The wonderful thing about her was that she could appreciate silence as easily as she could a good conversation. It had seemed that, since the moment they met, they were kindred spirits of a sort. 

"Mm, the wrong sort," he murmured, absently tilting his glass of milk and examining it as if he expected to find something hidden in its liquid depths. 

"You're very quiet lately, Gustafa." 

Blinking, Gustafa glanced up through the slit in his hat, gaze falling on Muffy. She was standing behind the bar, a glass and washrag in hand, smiling at him as she went through the motions of polishing. In all truth, Gustafa had never really had a decent conversation with Muffy; from what he had observed of her when talking with others, he doubted they would find much in common. However, there wasn't anyone else in the bar tonight, and much as he would prefer to be left alone with his thoughts, he was not a rude man. 

One corner of his mouth lifted slightly in response to her smile, and he said, "I suppose I've just been thinking." 

Muffy inclined her head, pursing her lips briefly. She appeared to be considering him, her gaze thoughtful and intent, so he decided to do the same. 

She was a very attractive woman, he would admit. There was no denying the appeal in her round, impish face, framed by flaxen waves that he imagined must be like silk to the touch. Her eyes, almost always laughing, dominated her face and had sent many a man chasing his own tail when they were applied in the sport that so many young ladies seemed to enjoy. Some might have described her countenance as angelic, but Gustafa differed. Certainly, she was fair, but there was a playful slyness that lingered around the edges of her generous lips that he imagined an angel wouldn't be likely to display. 

She formed quite the picture though, especially in that little red dress that was apparently her favorite. It flattered her hair and complexion, as well as every curve on her body. Some people thought it too extravagant for a place like Forget Valley, but then, some people thought him too extravagant. 

Yes, Gustafa could appreciate that Muffy was a very attractive woman. However, his sentiments were captured by another young woman of quite a different sort, and he was in no danger of falling under the spell of the alluring Muffy of the Blue Bar. 

She didn't seem perturbed at all by his observation of her; rather, she set her glass aside and leaned rested one hip against the bar, crossing her arms under her breasts. "Thinking, hm? You look so solemn lately... you know, if you want to talk, I'm willing to lend a friendly ear." 

Gustafa's smile widened, but he just shook his head. "I appreciate the offer, but..." 

"But," Muffy continued for him, tapping one finger to her chin as she slanted him a glance, "you don't want to burden someone who you barely know with your romantic troubles." When he glanced up quickly, she winked. "Am I right?" 

Leaning back, he laced his fingers across his stomach and arched an eyebrow. "Perhaps." 

Muffy laughed, a rich, warm sound, and Gustafa felt his lips twitching despite himself. "Oh, I am right. You're not going to be able to avoid spilling your sorrows, you know." 

"Oh? And why is that?" 

Muffy glanced around, as if expecting someone to be listening in, and then leaned over confidentially. "I'm the bartender, darling. It's my job to be pesky and your job to get piteously drunk and tell me everything. Though," she paused, arching one delicate eyebrow at his drink, "I'm afraid you'll have to have something a bit stronger than milk to accomplish that." 

Gustafa glanced down at his milk and laughed. "I'm afraid I don't drink alcohol. The taste has never appealed to me." 

Muffy nodded, apparently satisfied. "I admire that. Although, it makes my job that much more difficult. Since you seem like the sort of man that won't fall victim to feminine wiles, I suppose I'll just have to be blunt... You miss Nami, don't you?" 

Gustafa blinked once. Then he blinked once more. "I hadn't thought it was that obvious." 

A smug smile settled onto Muffy's little red bow of a mouth. "From one true romantic to another... it was written all over your face, darling. My heart's almost breaking for you." 

A man with a less complacent disposition would have likely been irritated. As it was, Gustafa was intrigued. He obviously had not given Muffy enough credit in his initial estimation. "Well, it won't do to have both our hearts breaking," he said teasingly. 

For a brief moment, wistfulness danced behind her eyes, but she smiled so quickly and warmly that he had difficulty deciding whether he had imagined it or not. 

"Hearts are fickle things, darling. You can't tell them when to break and when to endure." 

Gustafa was spared conjuring a response because just then the doors opened and Rock came in, chattering noisily over his shoulder to someone who happened to be passing by. He was perfectly oblivious to having interrupted any sort of important conversation, and promptly fell on top of a barstool with a boneless grace that Gustafa marveled at. 

"Hey, Gustafa, Muffy. You guys know of anything fun to do?" He asked, reaching up to push strawberry-blonde locks behind his ears. 

Muffy arched one delicately formed eyebrow at him and shook her head. "You know, Rock, one of these days..." 

He rolled his eyes. "One of these days, my thrill-seeking is going to get me killed. Right?" 

Gustafa ducked his head, reaching up to pull the brim of his hat lower over his eyes so that they wouldn't see him grin. Rock was an impertinent youth at best, but so affable about it, that almost no one could find it in them to scold him. It was true that he sometimes tried the nerves with his endless talk of parties and activities that could never happen in Forget Valley, but he was young. Young people always wished for things that were just out of their grasp. 

In some ways... he supposed youth wasn't really that different from adulthood. 

But in any case, he had overstayed his visit for the night. Rising, he laid some money out on the scratched surface of the bar and tipped the edge of his hat toward Muffy. 

"Have a nice night," he murmured, reaching for his guitar. 

Muffy turned from the heated debate she'd begun with Rock and blinked at Gustafa. He held her gaze only briefly, and in that moment a small frown line appeared between her eyes. However, she didn't comment on what apparently disturbed her; rather, she nodded and swiped a hand along the counter, dropping the money into her hands. 

"Don't be a stranger, Gustafa," she called cheerfully, waiting until he had slipped through the doors and closed them quietly behind him to sigh. 

Rock glanced up curiously. "What's the matter with you?" 

Fisting one hand on her hip, Muffy scowled at him and waggled a finger. "Someone like you wouldn't understand." 

Rock feigned hurt. "Well, sorry." 

"Oh, you know you aren't really offended." 

For a moment they merely stared at one another, in perfect silence, before both burst out laughing. The sound slipped out through the slightly opened window, and Gustafa glanced over his shoulder, a faint smile curving his lips as he walked off into the darkness. 


	2. Part Two

_Harbor_   
Part Two 

A small hiss escaped from between clenched teeth as Muffy snatched her hand away from the scalding water and executed a quick tap-dance across the kitchen. Making a face, she jammed her fingers in her mouth and cast a pitiful look out the window. It was just like her to burn her hand when she was thinking. Normally she just dropped and broke dishes, which while expensive and rather messy to clean weren't painful, but tonight seemed to be especially hazardous to her health. It was the second time she'd burned herself. 

Pulling her fingers out of her mouth, she stared at the angry red streaks and pouted. It really did _hurt_. More, she didn't want to finish the dishes, as they seemed out to kill her. 

She cast the sink one arch look, muttering, "I'll see about you later," before turning on her heel and stalking out of the room. The door slammed behind her, reverberated, and then everything was absolutely silent. 

Resting her uninjured hand on her hip, Muffy glanced around the bar. It was late and they were closed, which left the cleaning, polishing, and prepping for the next day. Griffin was in town visiting some friends of his, so she'd had the bar to manage by herself for the past two days. He would be back at the end of the week, and every night she sent a little prayer up to God that he didn't get detained. 

Muffy liked the bar, she really did, but she didn't want her waste her life away in it. Already she had spent far too many years slaving away behind the counter and too few out enjoying herself. It was nice to have a job where she could chat with so many people, but the work was ruining her hands, and the environment was too static. She was never going to get married at this rate. 

Sighing, Muffy let her hand slip and hang limply at her side as she turned and shook her head. She should've given up on the fairytale by now. No one but the good girls ever got love and happily ever after; she'd seen that with Jack and Celia. Life would be easier if she just gave up on that dream and resigned herself to forever being a bar wench while her hair slowly turned gray, her skin shriveled and her hands fell off. 

Depressed now, Muffy pushed through the doors of the bar and closed it, leaning heavily against it as she closed her eyes and tilted her face toward the sky. She didn't _want_ to grow old and ugly alone. 

Why was it that she always missed the base entirely when it came to love? What had she ever done to deserve to be slapped in the face when she started to care for someone? It wasn't fair. She deserved happiness just as much as the next person, even if she wasn't perfect. She might have made some mistakes, but that didn't mean she should be forsaken. 

Exhaling slowly, Muffy opened her eyes slightly and sighed again. She often got like this on nights when there was no one to talk to. The best thing, she had found, was to take a walk, empty her mind, and then go to sleep. Tomorrow would bring a new day and new chances to be content. 

Pushing forward, she rubbed one hand along the back of her neck as she made her way toward the beach. The sight of the ocean always calmed her with its steady presence. She could always count on the waves to lap up and go back. They might've been the only thing that had never let her down in her life. It certainly seemed like everything else delighted in doing it. 

A faint, bitter smile twisted her lips as she kicked off her shoes in the sand and lowered herself to a sitting position, feet only inches from the lines of water at their furthest reaching point. It didn't do any good to feel sorry for herself, but damn it, once in a while somebody had to. It wasn't as though she got a lot of sympathy around the village. 

Perhaps that was being childish of her, but it was true. Everyone was busy with their own lives and families, and even if they weren't, they had better things to do that soothe her spirits when they got low. In fact, most people didn't think she was capable of a mood that was anything but perky, and though that was partially her fault, it was still disheartening. 

Bringing her knees up to her chest, she wrapped her arms around them partially to stave off the cold, and partially for comfort. There were times she felt so alone it was as though there was a gigantic black hole tearing through her chest and it would never be full of anything. Griffin never knew how to help her when she got like this, so it was probably just as well that he wasn't here. He would have just floundered and ended up upsetting her more with his attempts to make her feel better. 

No one seemed to understand her. She'd thought that Jack did, and had thought that they had shared something special, but she'd been wrong again. Just like every time before, she'd fallen headfirst into a fancy and ended up by herself when she needed to be held the most, carrying a bruised heart and wounded pride. No one ever felt as strongly or deeply as she did. 

Did she really ask too much? Were things like a home, comfort, and a family really that demanding? All she wanted was to have someone to go home to every night, someone to hold her when she felt like this, someone to laugh with, cry with, fight with... someone she knew she would always make up with at the end of the day, and a man that would always be with her no matter what. One that wouldn't ever get tired of her or patiently explain that she simply 'wasn't the sort of girl he took home to Mom and Dad'. 

Her lips trembled briefly and she pursed them, squinting so as not to cry and ruin her make-up. Those parting words had stung viciously when they'd been said, and they still hurt now. What was wrong with her, exactly? She just liked to have fun and certainly she might have dressed a little lavishly, but that didn't make her an immoral woman. 

No one ever went to hell for wearing lipstick and fire-engine red. 

Leaning her forehead against her knees, she closed her eyes and fought desperately against the tears. She would have to go back soon, she knew, back to her empty room that was cold because she hadn't lit a fire. The thought was so bleak that she almost didn't want to go home. 

"Where else would I go?" She asked herself harshly, voice rising an octave as she did. "No where." 

Just as the first hot tears pushed past her lashes and began slipping down her cheeks, the sound of music filtered softly down to her. It was slow and gentle, almost inaudible, and for a moment, Muffy thought she was imagining it. When she lifted her face it got louder, however, and even as the cold air hit her cheeks and chilled them, the music began to wrap around her. 

A slow, sad smile began to grow as the song played. It sounded almost exactly how she felt - hopeless, lost, and hurting. It seemed that the melody had almost been designed for her, and for some reason, it soothed better than any words could have managed. As she listened she closed her eyes and slowly the tears stopped falling. 

When the last notes trailed into silence she finally opened her eyes and turned, bracing herself with one hand as she searched for the source. Somehow she had known who it was, and the sight of him standing on the crest of the little rise just behind her, his guitar balanced carefully between his hands, face downcast, seemed so natural that she didn't for a moment wonder why he was awake so late and playing an instrument of all things. 

His hands slowly stilled and she watched him for a moment longer before grabbing her shoes and standing, brushing at her eyes with one hand as she approached him. Her mascara had run and she knew her nose was red, but for once she didn't care. The song had been beautiful and she wanted to tell him so, because of that, and also because she knew exactly why he was playing it. 

Heartache's wintry grip spared so few people these days, after all. 

He looked up when she was close enough to speak and offered her a brief, wan smile. "Muffy." 

She angled her head. "Thank you. That was beautiful." 

He nodded, and it hit Muffy quite suddenly that he wasn't wearing his glasses. And oh, he had the most beautiful blue eyes she had ever seen. 

Recognizing the warning sign, she quickly ground that thought into oblivion and mentally chided herself. She was feeling sentimental tonight was all, which was the last thing she needed. Falling for someone else when she was still recovering from Jack was not a good idea at all. 

"It felt like you needed a kindred spirit." 

Blinking, Muffy jerked herself from her thoughts and stared at Gustafa silently a moment. He was watching her carefully with those calm blue eyes, prompting her to say more. It was ridiculous, but for a fleeting second, she wanted to spill everything to him. It would be so easy, especially since he was offering, to finally unburden herself from all these thoughts, worries, and insecurities. 

And why shouldn't she? She was always listening to other people's troubles and giving them advice. It was about time her turn came around. 

Still she hesitated a moment and decided just to say, "It seems I did." 

Lines feathered out from the edges of his eyes as he smiled. It was an action that spoke volumes for the man; he was someone accustomed to laughing, smiling, more often than frowning. "And you don't anymore?" 

Feeling a smile begin to stir on her own lips, she replied, "I don't know. Are you my kindred spirit for tonight?" 

He chuckled softly. "It looks that way. What do you say?" 

Muffy studied his face a moment, then glanced toward his yurt. It looked warm and cozy even from here. 

He followed her gaze and slipped his tongue in cheek. "It's rather warm." 

Arching both her eyebrows at him, Muffy tapped her finger on her chin and then smiled widely. "Why not? It's fairly scandalous, I'm sure, but no one ever has to know, right?" 

She winked and he shook his head. Gustafa held the door open for her and she tossed him a smile over her shoulder. 

There really wasn't any harm in talking, was there? 


End file.
